As a father's words, like arrows
Straight to children's hearts are sent,

So my currents speeding downwards,
Ever passing, sing the same
Story of the days remembered,
When the stranger people came.
Men of mighty limbs and voices,
Bearing shining shields and knives,
Painted gleamed their hair like evening,
When the sun in ocean dives.

Blue their eyes and tall their stature,
Huge as Indian shadows seen
When the sun through mists of morning
Casts them o'er a clear lake's sheen.

From before the great Pale-faces
Fled the tribes to woods and caves,
Watching thence their fearful councils,
Where they talked beside the waves.

For they loved the shores, and fashioned
Houses from its stones, and there
Fished and rested, danced at night-time
By their fire and torches' glare.

Sang loud songs before the pine-logs
As they crackled in the flame,
Raised and drank from bone-cups, shouting